


A Cheap Trick And A Cheesy One-Liner

by ravenousbee



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Character Study, Child Abuse, Gen, Genius Tony Stark, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Human Jarvis (Iron Man movies), Hurt Tony Stark, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kid Tony Stark, Maria Stark's Good Parenting, The Ten Rings (Marvel), Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 17:57:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16246853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenousbee/pseuds/ravenousbee
Summary: Character study on : Tony Stark---Anthony Stark’s born on May 29th 1970, to a mother he never saw, and grew in a family which the mother was the only person he’d ever see.“Anthony.” Maria repeats the name, as if she’s tasting a new pastry, and liking it. “Tony.” She says, a smile creeping onto her face, and Howard believes he hasn’t seen that smile since their wedding.Well, understandable.“Tony Stark.” He mutters, saving the sight in a corner of his intellect. “You don’t know it yet, kid, but…”





	A Cheap Trick And A Cheesy One-Liner

**Author's Note:**

> YELLS I'VE ABANDONED ALL OF MY PROJECTS FOR DETROIT BECOME HUMAN FOR THIS LITTLE SERIES.  
> INHALES alright I may have had a marvel movie marathon and i was like? by the end of infinity war i realized how truly misjudged tony stark is and?  
> my heart can't take this amount of prejudice s o here's a series of one shot character studies for tony so that i can make him suffer e v e n more.
> 
> look, i said he deserves happiness but who's, gonna give it to him?
> 
> I hope you enjoy this! A part two is on its way, just gotta rewatch another handful of movies and drown myself in misery :')

 

_ [Maybe Howard’s original plan wasn’t to march into his home with a baby in his arms. Maria looks at him, eyes filled with curiosity and lips sealed with a dozen questions. “Howard?”  _

_ “I think this covers birthdays and christmas for at least two years.” He jokes, lifting the baby for Maria to have a better view. _

_ “What did you do?” _

_ “You know how you always say if something’s meant to be, it’s meant to be…? And I make fun of you for it?” He gulps, rather swallows his pride and gazes into Maria’s eyes. “It- it was meant to be.” _

_ He hands her the baby, her embrace surprisingly welcoming. The baby gives out a quiet sound, and tears threaten to fall from Maria’s bright eyes. “Does- does he have a name?” _

_ ‘ _ **_Anthony_ ** _ ’ _

_ “Anthony.” The pleas of the young woman echoes in his head. “The birth mother wants to the name to remain.”  _

_ “Anthony.” Maria repeats the name, as if she’s tasting a new pastry, and liking it. “Tony.” She says, a smile creeping onto her face, and Howard believes he hasn’t seen that smile since their wedding.  _

_ Well, understandable. _

**_“Tony Stark.” He mutters, saving the sight in a corner of his intellect. “You don’t know it yet, kid, but…”_ ** _ ] _

  
  


Anthony Stark’s born on May 29th 1970, to a mother he never saw, and grew in a family which the mother was the only person he’d ever see. 

  
  


Well, the definition of family, however, is somewhat different for Tony Stark.

 

For him, family’s his mother, Maria stark. His butler, Jarvis and his wife, Ana. Family’s Peggy, who although is grieving the loss of her young, courageous lover, still makes time for the little kid and hangs out with him whenever his father isn’t bothering her.

 

Family’s the illusion of Captain America, the bravest man to ever breathe this planet’s air, as his father puts it. It’s the poster that hangs above his bed, it’s the familiar  _ Captain America _ tune that plays, whenever the radio’s on. Family’s the plastic toy shield that he couldn’t play with anymore because  _ it’s childish _ , as his father says.

 

Family’s his father, even though he rarely sees his old man. Howard’s a shadow in his life, a ghost hanging in their basement that Maria  _ warns _ him against visiting the ghost.

 

_ [“Doesn’t he get lonely, down there?” _

_ “No, honey. Steve’s with him.” _

_ “Isn’t Captain America gone?” _

_ “He is.” Maria smiles, picking him up and settling the three year old on her lap. “But he’s somehow with us, can you feel him watching over you?”] _

 

So, while his father’s away in his little prison, Tony busies himself with learning how to read, how to write, and how to do basic calculations. 

Jarvis calls him a genius and Ana gives him a warm slice of vanilla cake with a strawberry on top of it. Tony questions their intents, saying that he didn’t do anything  _ difficult _ , but nevertheless, who is he to reject such praises?

 

_ [He doesn’t. He doesn’t feel it when his father makes his mother cry, and he doesn’t feel it when his father beats him until his skin tingles and bruises. _

_ He’s too young to understand it’s wrong for his father to do that, but he’s old enough to feel the pain and he’s foolish enough to cry and sob in front of the enraged man. _

 

_ He doesn’t, but he nods, and feels his tense body relax as Maria runs her fingers through his hair, bright eyes gazing into his dark ones, and a lullaby quietly being hummed as he drifts into a land of scary monsters, and basement ghosts.] _

 

One day, the ghost leaves their basement, in search of his long-lost friend,  _ Captain America _ , and Tony doesn’t hesitate for a  _ mere second _ before stumbling down the stairs and right into the mysterious habitat of the shadow.

 

There are wires everywhere. Breadboards, tin, devices, and blue papers filled with white sketches of his hero’s signature shield. There’s a pile of books in a corner, all with strange titles that Tony’s  _ aching _ to understand. 

  
  


And so he does. When Howard’s away, Tony takes his place in the basement, reading the books and savouring them like a foreign meal, like a drop of water to a greedy nomad. 

Surprisingly enough, he understands them, he knows what they’re talking about after a month of reading, and when he tells Jarvis about it, the older man just tilts his head, as confused as he can be when the child rambles about  _ programming _ .

 

When he’s lived for a little bit over four years, he makes a small circuit board.  _ Well _ , it’s quite banal, for most technicians or programmers. The microchip looks like a disfigured centipede, and the soldering isn’t too impressive. 

Still, when he shows it to Peggy, her eyes  _ widen _ and he’s afraid they’re going to burst out of the sockets, and bounce across the living room. She tells him to show it to Howard, tells him how proud he would be.

 

And he listens, because it’s  _ Peggy _ , and Peggy’s usually right when she says something.

 

Howard, however, doesn’t care who’s right and who’s not. Doesn’t care what anyone else says. He takes a look at his son, and snatches the circuit out of his hands, not minding the small scrape it leaves on his palm.

  
  


_ [“What’s this?” _

_ “A-A circuit board, dad. I read your books-” _

_ “A circuit board this flimsy and stupid?” Howard turns it around, eyes tracing the tracks. He scowls, throwing the circuit board on his desk. The microchip is even more flawed that before, now. _

_ “Don’t touch it. The press will like it.” He mutters, hands reaching for the few blueprints of Captain America’s shield. “It’s a ruined piece of work. Waste of material. You should be better, from now on.”  _

_ Tony says nothing, looks down, bites his lips to keep them from quivering. His little body can’t take it, however, and soon quiet sobs escape his mouth.  _

 

_ Dad doesn’t like it when he cries. _

 

_ And Tony doesn’t like it when dad doesn’t like something.] _

  
  


Tony is stubborn enough to create more boards and more creations after this incident. He makes a small car, with a fancy joystick that controls it using the IRs he found in his father’s workshop.

It’s summertime, he’s bored, and he has what he needs to make this toy, so why not?

 

The school he’s going to isn’t all that interesting. Kids are starting to learn the alphabets while Tony already can read education books about cardiology and grasp the base of the knowledge.

 

_ [“I don’t like being handed things.” He whispers to Jarvis, the older man also sitting down on the floor despite of his fancy, probably expensive outfit.  _

_ “Why is that, young sir?” _

 

_ A good question, he thinks. Maybe it’s due to Howard constantly hitting the palm of his hands with a stick whenever he does something wrong, or maybe it’s due to being handed anything that’s too hot or too cold that it  _ **_burns_ **

He paints it red, with golden lines tracing the doors. 

 

Jarvis loves it, and even spends a few hours in the garden with Tony to test out the engine of the toy car, seeing how it would cross obstacles and how much damage it can take. By sunset, Jarvis urges him to go inside and show his father what he’s made.

 

_ [“He’ll be proud, young sir.”] _

 

He isn’t.

 

_ [Howard’s yelling, the red car in his hands. “And what, this is yours, I take it?” _

_ He pauses, hand flying up and for a moment Tony’s ready to dodge the incoming hit. “This is how you spend your weekend at home?!” _

_ “D-Dad-” _

 

_ He’s worked hard on it. Why can’t dad just appreciate it? _

_ His grip tightens on the joystick when the hand comes down. Not tight enough to hold on to it when Howard’s hand throws it away, the weak plastic plates falling apart.  _

_ “Waste of time! I don’t need to deal with this nonsense, do you understand me?!” _

 

_ His father’s panting, the dirty smell of alcohol and expensive cologne clogging up the air. He’s tearing up, but this time he’s smart enough to run away before Howard beats him again.] _

 

Jarvis comes up to him after that,  _ luckily _ , standing by the door. 

Tony stays in the balcony, hugging his knees and staring at the glowing orb as it sinks down behind the buildings and mountains. 

  
  


He wishes he’d go down with it.

 

_ [I wanna go back to school… I wanna go back to school…] _

  
  


“Master Tony?” Jarvis’ gentle voice rises up, and it  _ annoys _ him and he  _ hates  _ that it annoys him. 

“Do not take his outburst to heart.” Jarvis continues, voice as soft as it can be, as if Tony would break if he spoke slightly louder.

 

“Leave me alone, Jarvis.”

“Fathers and sons… that particular relationship…”

 

_ Why is Jarvis justifying it? _

 

“...Often so difficult to maneuver. For both sides.” 

 

He’s sick and tired of everyone around him trying to tell him Howard’s not at fault. That Howard’s trying his best to care.

 

“But time heals all wounds.”

 

_ [It never healed his. It worsened it.] _

  
  


At age six, he puts together an engine. Functioning, enough power to boot up a motorcycle, one of the most recent models in the market, too. Howard doesn’t say anything, he just nods and puts it away in a corner of his workshop. 

 

A few days later, the press comes, and have him sit on an unfunctional motorcycle with Howard’s hands on his shoulders and back.

 

He tries to smile for the camera and ignore how much he’d wish Howard would take away his touch.

 

_ [“You won’t lay a hand on him, Howard. You can finish dinner without us.” Maria spits as she picks up the small boy in her arms, and Tony’s never felt warmer in his mother’s embrace. She takes him away from the dinner table, away from Howard’s shouts and the disgusting stench of whiskey. _

 

_ She holds him in his arms, runs her hand through his hair. A scenario too awfully familiar for the youngster and his mother. _

 

_ When she thinks he’s fallen asleep, she halts her caresses despite Tony’s desire for more, and quietly whispers to no one in the room. _

 

_ “I wish I could take us away from here.”] _

 

He goes back to school, at least.

 

Although another school. One that is for  _ even _ dumber kids and apparently, most of the school’s population has a bone to pick with the Stark industries.

It’s like Howard said, the midgets fear the ghouls. The idiots fear the intellects. 

 

Tony doesn’t blame them. He’d fear  _ Starks _ too. He  _ fears _ Starks.

 

His fear, however, doesn’t save him from all the hits he takes from the rebels of the school.

One day, although, an unlikely hero jumps in. And to him, he’s more of a hero than Steve Rogers.

 

_ [“No ransom policy.” He mumbles, still cold from the bucket of ice and water poured all over him. _

_ The muscular, tattooed man huffs, cracking his knuckles as he grabs a pair of pliers.  _

_ “No ransom policy? D’you even know what that  _ **_means_ ** _ , kiddo?”  _

_ He says with a dirty laugh, his rough fingers tracing Tony’s fragile one. _

_ “Such a piece of art.” He whispers, before shaking his head and moving the pliers to Tony’s fingernails. _

 

_ “Put Howard on the line. Let’s see how this ‘policy’ works out when his son’s screaming so loudly.” _

 

_ Tony shivers, tries to escape but the chains keep him from running. “Please- My dad won’t pay-” _

 

_ ‘Hello?’ The familiar voice of his father reaches his ears, and there’s only the smallest amount of relief inside his guts. Maybe he would pay. Maybe. _

 

_ “Howard… Stark. How are ya doin’?” The man says, breaking into a fit of laughter. “Making more weapons and searching for your boyfriend, I hope. I have a little something here… that I’m willing to exchange for just a small part of your fortune.” _

 

_ ‘You know where Steve is?’ Howard’s raspy voice speaks out, and Tony feels the world fall upon him, crushing him beneath the debris. _

 

_ “Something better.” The man smirks, his fingers tracing circles on the small of Tony’s back. “Little Anthony here. Say hi to your daddy, Anthony.” _

_ “S-Sir.” Tony musters, voice as weak as it can get. It earns a few glances from across the room. _

 

_ “Only two million dollars. Not much for you, but it’d help us tons, old man.” _

_ ‘The Stark Industries’ No-Ransom-Policy will not give you what you’re seeking, unfortunately. I’d suggest you let the kid go, or he can get out himself.’ _

_ “What do you mean no ransom policy?” The man tightens his grips on the pliers, the cool metal pressing against Tony’s nails.  _

 

_ And then, he pulls on them.  _

_ Tony sees white, and then he sees all colors. He screams, and then he can’t make a sound. He feels the warm blood of his drip slowly from his fingers, and then he is numb. _

 

_ Howard hangs up.] _

 

“My name’s James.”

“James who?”

“James Rhodes.” 

 

The dark-skinned boy’s shadow weighs over his body, a bright smile on his face. “Hey, at least a _thank_ _you_ would be appreciated.” He says with a laugh, hand moving onto Tony’s shoulder only for him to flinch away from it. 

The boy tilts his head, confusion evident in his features. “Eh? Sorry, didn’t know you- uh, am I making you uncomfortable?”

 

Tony doesn’t respond, and instead keeps staring at the ripped blueprints by his feet.

 

“Who was that dude? Said somethin’ about… getting his ass kicked by your dad?”

 

Tony doesn’t respond. 

 

“You’re not really- Okay, how about I leave you, yeah?” James says, pulling on his white shirt’s sleeves to hide his hands. “See you around, maybe? Hopefully not the next time you’re getting beaten up by some assholes.” He says with a nervous laugh, and turns on his heels. 

 

“Thanks.” 

 

“Yeah?” James turns around again, eyebrows raised.

 

Tony looks up, and pouts. “I said thanks, are you deaf, Rhodey?”

 

“...Rhodey…?”

“Yeah, that’s your new name. Congrats.”

“The hell are you on about- I just said my name is  _ James _ !”

“And I just said it’s  _ Rhodey _ . Capiche?”

“Cap-  _ no _ ,  _ not _ capiche. Seriously,  _ J _ would be a more suitable nickname.”

 

Tony stands up, ignoring the frown of the older boy. “Yeah, well, sorry buddy. I don’t make the rules.” 

He stops, shrugs, and looks up to James. “Actually, I do. I am the rich guy here. See you around,  _ Rhodey _ .” 

 

_ [They hang around, for a while. James is kind, loving, and the blissful existence he desperately needed in his life. He’s too old, of course. They’re in the same grade while Tony’s a few centimeters shorter and a few years younger, but that doesn’t keep James from caring. _

 

_ Well, that’s until Tony goes to high school a bit too early for James’ own good, and Howard keeps him from hanging out with Rhodey.  _

 

_ “No worries, buddy. You just take care of yourself and avoid the evil witch.” James says when they last meet, and Tony wraps his arms around him, not willing to let go. _

 

_ “I don’t want to go. I wish I was dumb. Dumber. So I could stay here. Longer. With you.” _

_ “I’m sorry, Tones.”] _

 

“Steve rogers was a great man.” Howard says, drunk, tears dropping from his eyes. “Is. Is a great man. He  _ is _ a great man.” He quickly corrects himself, dropping another empty bottle of alcohol on the floor. 

 

Peggy sits next to him, hand on his shoulder and eyes on Maria, who’s dressed up in a fancy dress with unbearably flashy makeup, her own hands clenching around a bottle. 

 

The room is a mess, discarded clothing and empty bottles all over the place, S.H.I.E.L.D files on the ground, and the infamous blueprint of Captain America’s shield plastered on the table with a red marker next to it. 

 

“We’ll find him, Peg’. I swear, on my legacy, on my life,” Howard slurs, hands alreading working on a new bottle and bringing it up to his lips to take a sip. “I’ll bring him home.”

“Yeah, I know you will.” 

There’s a bitter taste lingering in his mouth, after hearing Peggy say that. She sounds hopeless, sounds like she’s moving on. Something that is quite strange to see Peggy  _ Carter _ do.

 

Tony uncomfortably fidgets with the notebook in his hands, designs for a metallic arm on the paper, with messy notes scrambled all over it. 

 

“I wish Anthony was like Steve.” He hears Howard mutter, and it takes too much energy to make himself swallow the bile in his mouth. 

 

Peggy looks up at him, a thousand apologies in her soulless eyes. Her red lipstick is smeared all over her face, her usually tied up hair in a handful of knots and curls.

“I think we should go rest, Howard.” Maria whispers, the cup dropping from her hand and whiskey spilling all over the million dollar carpet. She kisses Tony’s forehead, a drop of alcohol making its way from his forehead to his chin, and he disgustedly rubs it away.

 

“Good night, baby.” She whispers, and he turns his face away to avoid the reek.

 

They both leave, and Tony leans back in to the couch, his eyes lingering on the bottle of whiskey. He’s too young, for the heavenly taste. Or rather hellborn. He’s seen what alcohol does to his parents.

 

To his mother. To Peggy.

 

“You know,” Peggy starts, her hands unbuttoning the ‘Peggy’ vest, her white dress showing underneath. “He  _ was _ a great man. You don’t have to be like him- you’re great yourself. But-” Peggy slurs, her head falling back on the sofa.

 

“He took everything from me.” 

 

“What  _ did _ he take away from you?”

“My dad, for starters.”

“Your dad loves you- he’s just bad at  _ showing _ it.” Peggy walks over to him, well,  _ crawls _ over to him, dropping on the floor, hands tearing off the high-heels.

 

“He hates me. I bet he’s waiting for the day he  _ ships _ me away to a boarding school. Again.”

Peggy giggles drunkenly, delicate hands settling on Tony’s bony knees. “Come on, sweetie. He’s…  _ problematic _ . His only life-saving achievement’s gone, he’s  _ desperate _ .”

 

“I’m not even his son. Just a replacement for something he needs for the  _ Starks _ to go on.”

 

“Come on, Tones. Don’t be dramatic. Okay, sure, Steve, the biggest kindest polar bear took away your dad. Who else did he take away?” Peggy says, eyelids drooping. 

 

“My mother. She’s too heartbroken, no thanks to  _ Howard _ . Who Steve ruined.”

“You speak as if they were homosexually involved with each other, and Howard is now the heartbroken fiance left behind.”

“Isn’t that you?”

Peggy pouts, hurt in her features. “...I guess.”

 

There’s an uncomfortable silence between them, filled with tensions and untold stories of the bruises on Tony’s back, and the smudged lipstick on Peggy’s cheeks and lips.

 

“You.”

“Huh?”

“He took away you.”

 

He stands up, closing the book and shuts his mouth, determined to keep his sobs inside. Stark men do not cry, after all. Stark men are made of iron. 

 

Peggy’s fingers cling onto his, her figure still lying helplessly on the floor. “What do you mean, me? I’m still here, I’m here for you, Anthony.”

 

“Look at yourself, Aunt Peggy.” He snaps, pulling away his hand. “You’re a drunk mess. Just like  _ him _ . Over someone who valued war  _ over you. _ Over  _ him _ . Look at you two. Searching for the dead. He’s  _ dead _ . He’s  _ gone _ . He’s  _ no longer here _ , and frankly enough,” He inhales sharply. “I  _ doubt _ he’d care enough for the two of you to come back if he was.” 

 

He looks away. Ten seconds. Fifty seconds. Four minutes. Eleven minutes.

 

Peggy’s sobs reach his ears, and he wants to stab himself with something  _ sharp,  _ something that would  _ end _ his life. Running away from the world, from Peggy, Howard, Maria,  _ Jarvis _ , he runs into his room, closes the door, and locks it. 

 

He walks up to his bed, and looks at the Captain America poster hanging upon it. “I hate you.” He mutters, tears threatening to fall from his eyes. “I hate you. I  _ hate you _ . You’re no hero.” His hands move towards the edge of the poster, clinging.

 

“You’re a  _ coward _ . You’re a  _ lab rat _ .” He pants, hands tearing down the poster, “You took  _ everything _ from me.”, the pieces of paper coming down along with his tears, “You’re not my hero. You-”, and he keeps  _ tearing  _ and  _ tearing  _ and  _ tearing and tearing- _

  
  


And then he stops. 

 

The poster’s on the ground, ripped all over, the shield split in half. Tony drops to his knees, sobs escaping his lips loudly, and he prays to the god who doesn’t even  _ exist _ , that neither Howard nor Jarvis hear him.

 

He walks out, and Peggy’s already left the house. There’s a bottle of untouched scotch by the coffee table, as attractive as it can be. 

His hands reach out, he removes the lid, and takes a sip.

 

It  _ burns _ his throat, it’s  _ bitter _ , it’s  _ unfamiliar _ . Yet somehow, the burn is so  _ good _ that it takes away his fears, his sorrows, his pain, his hatred, and he lies on the ground, keeps drinking, vomits all over the expensive carpet, but he doesn’t regret it.

 

He’s only fourteen. 

 

_ [“His name’s… Dum-E.” _

_ “Dummy?” _

_ “Dum. E. The letter E. Though,” Tony pauses, grinning. “He is a dummy, actually. Thanks for the nick.”  _

_ The professeur looks at the arm, aimlessly moving around, looking for objects to pick up and throw or move. He smiles, and his hands reach out to hand Tony a form and a pen.  _

_ “Well, Mr. Stark. I believe you are ready for your graduation.” _

 

_ Tony flinches away, desperate to keep a smile on his face. _

 

_ “I’m sorry, I don’t like to be handed things.”] _

  
  


He meets James again. It’s after his graduation, he’s in his room with the tiny metallic arm moving around, picking up mugs and throwing them away. He’s too busy working on another prototype for Dum-E, too busy to pay attention to Jarvis standing by the door.

 

“Young sir?”

“Tony. We talked about this.”

 

Jarvis pauses.

 

“ _ Master _ Tony. There’s someone at the door for you that I think you’d like to meet.”

“Starks are closed today. Tell them to fuck off, Jarvis.” 

The blueprints looks more and more disappointing the more he looks at them.

 

“... _ Tony _ . I think you should come with me and meet them. Please.” 

 

Tony sighs, stands up, angrily dropping the blueprints on his desk and walking past Jarvis to see who’s dared to walk up to the  _ Stark _ household without consulting with anyone.

 

He pauses dead in his tracks when he sees a tall, black man by the door with some sort of military outfit. It seems like a low rank, given his empty chest and the lack of badges. But the face is worth the highest of ranks, to Tony.

 

_ [“...Rhodey?” _

_ The man’s head shots up, smiling toothily when he sees Tony. “Tones-Hey! I missed you too, yeah?” _

_ It’s too late when he realizes he almost tackled James, but he can’t bring himself to care. He wraps his arms around him, and it’s just like the day he moved away to the boarding school. Just that this time, he’s here to stay, and he doubts Rhodey would go anywhere, so soon. _

 

_ “You’ve changed, Tones.” James says, pulling away to look at his face. Well, Tony knows he’s not looking his best. _

 

_ Shadows of abuse and alcohol over his eyes, dark bags embracing his eyes. There are a few burn marks on his hands, no thanks to Howard who’s too desperately searching for Steve Rogers, so desperately that he’s willing to take Maria on a  _ **_vacation_ ** _ for the sake of searching more areas. _

_ He’s skinnier, not a fiber of red muscle cells around his bones. Weak, terrified boy in the body of a weaker manipulator. _

 

_ “Yeah, well,” Tony says, a grin too unsettling for his mental state on his face. “It’s called the Stark effect. Can’t deny I’ve become five-hundred and forty-six percent more handsome.”] _

 

Maria’s playing the piano, so gracefully, her voice singing the lullaby of Tony’s darkest nights. 

“ _ Try to remember, the kind of September, when grass was green…  _ Wake up, dear.” She stops, calling out to him.

A hand removes his blanket and he squints at the light that hits his sight, quickly standing up to see Howard upon him. 

“Who’s the homeless person on the couch?” 

He groans, standing up, the red ridiculous hat on his head.

“This is why I love coming home before Christmas.” He says, monotone with a hint of bitterness. “Right before you,” He points at Howard, “leave the town.” 

 

_ [At only seventeen, he loses Jarvis. He sits by the hospital bed, still jet-lagged and tired from his trip, from his boarding school to his hometown. Jarvis’ eyes are barely open, but even the small of his pupils that are visible are focused so determinedly on Tony’s. _

 

_ Jarvis could never have a kid. Ana’s body was too weak to keep one.  _

_ “I’m sorry that I dared, thinking of you as my son.” _

 

_ Tony looks away, his hands moving up to hold Jarvis’ cold ones. “I’m sorry that you were more of a father than my father ever was, to me. I’m sorry that I forced you to be the father I never had.” _

 

_ Jarvis smiles, and his hands  _ **_try_ ** _ to hold his tighter. He doesn’t have the energy to speak, but his eyes are far from worn out as they take in every detail of Tony’s face. _

 

_ Tony’s eyes are far from even  _ **_trying_ ** _ when the tears trace lines on his skin. Tears of the many years of hurt, fear, and tears for passing of his light in the darkness. _

 

_ Jarvis closes his eyes, and Tony can no longer see his irises. He presses the elder’s hand against his forehead, and stays like that when Howard barges in, the familiar scent of alcohol flowing in the room as he curses. _

 

_ He doesn’t hang around for the funeral.  _ **_Can’t_ ** _ stay for the funeral or his so-called facade of a heartless Stark would fall apart.  _

 

_ So he runs back to MIT, works day and night and day and night  _ **_and day and night_ ** _ -] _

  
  


Maria sighs, her hands still moving graciously and pressing the keys, the only tune that keeps Tony from breaking down, right there. “Be nice to him dear, he’s been studying abroad.” She says softly to Howard, eyes closing to delve into the depths of her melody. 

 

“Really? Which broad?” His hands reach up, removing the hat. Tony somewhat appreciates it.

“What’s your name?”

“Candace” He says, not budging. 

 

“Do me a favor? Try not to burn the house down before Monday.”

“Okay so it’s  _ Monday _ ,” His hands move around as if to prove a point. “That is  _ good _ to know, I will plan my party accordingly.” He sniffs, moving to stand over Maria, leaning down to level with her. “Where are you going?”

“Your father’s flying us to the Bahamas, for a little get-away.”

“We might have to make a little stop.” Howard steps closer. “At th-”

“The Pentagon? Right? Don’t worry, you’re gonna  _ love _ the holiday menu _____”

 

“You know, they say sarcasm is a metric for potential. If that's true, you'll be a great man some day.”

Without a pause, he glances at Maria. “I’ll get the bags.” 

 

As Howard leaves the room, Tony leans against the door frame, breathing in and out sharply and counting down the seconds until Howard is gone from their house. “He does miss you, when you’re not here.” Maria whispers, handbag hanging from her shoulder.

 

Tony scoffs, looking away and biting his tongue to keep himself from saying anything. “Say something. ...Please.” 

 

As if on queue, Howard steps in the room, looking at Maria expectantly. Tony looks at Maria, and then at Howard.

 

_ [I love you dad. And I know you did the best that you could.] _

 

It’s  _ so _ tempting to say something.

But then he remembers the hits, the beats, the bruises and the burns he wore for weeks, because of this man. He remembers the red car shattered on the ground, and he remembers the two fingernails taken away from him while Howard refused to just  _ pay _ one tenth of his payday.

  
  
  


Instead, he leans in, kisses Maria’s cheeks, and watches her eyes gloss over. Without a word, they walk away, Howard not even sparing a glance at him. The touch of Maria’s hand on his cheek linger for months after that day. 

 

They never made it to the airport, of course. The car crash takes them away from this world, and takes away his mother. 

 

It feels like a part of  _ Anthony Stark _ leaves him when he reads the newspaper.

 

His mother’s picture didn’t even make it to the newspaper. Only Howard’s portrait, with that _disgusting_ _smug_ grin of his. 

  
  


Tony locks himself in, ignores the calls he receives from Rhodey, and doesn’t make a move when Peggy’s screaming outside of her door, asking for closure.

 

Instead, he finds a new friend. 

A bottle of whiskey, or more, perhaps. He can’t recall. Was it four? Five?

 

He  _ is _ legally allowed to do so, nowadays. 

  
  
  


He drinks for Peggy, the heart-broken godmother of his dreams, shattered by the selfishness of Captain America. 

 

He drinks for Maria Stark, a mother he rarely saw, but when he  _ did _ , he felt as if the bruises and cuts on his arms and back never existed.

 

He drinks for… James. The colonel, climbing the ladders of success while concern nags at the back of his head for… Tony?  _ Hah _ , what a sick joke. Tony doesn’t  _ deserve _ it.

 

He drinks for Steve Rogers. Hero to all, alive to none. The antagonist of his arc, the villain that never met him but managed to ruin his life  _ so _ perfectly. 

 

He drinks for Jarvis and Ana.

The butler and his wife, parenting him more than  _ his _ parents ever did. Loving him when he needed love, treating him when he needed treatment.

 

_ [At twenty-one, for a week of restlessness and abandoning his meals, his sleep, and even his routine hygiene, he codes. Codes, programs, puts together data banks, and finds any clips that have the slightest sound from Jarvis in them. _

 

_ On a friday night, at roughly around four a.m, he finally presses a key, that he thinks holds the key to his sanity. _

 

_ Silence. _

_ No sounds escape the computer, and just as he’s about to close the application, abort his quest, terminate all processes, something speaks. _

 

_ Or rather, someone. _

 

_ Or rather, the silhouette of someone he holds dear. _

 

_ “Hello, sir.”] _

 

He drinks for Howard. 

 

He drinks for a man who didn’t know how to love anyone other than a lab rat and his wife. He drinks for a man that only knew how to show his affection to his son by beating him, hoping it would make him a better man. 

 

Peggy stops knocking, Rhodey stops calling, and a new person steps into his life. Calls himself Obadiah, and Tony knows he’s already met the man a thousand times that he fails to remember.

 

Another flaw to his intellect.

 

_ [He says he names him J.A.R.V.I.S, as in Just another rather very intelligent system. But Rhodey knows he’s bullshitting. Pepper knows something’s up, but she doesn’t know enough about him to recognize the name. _

 

_ Obadiah doesn’t understand anything. All he knows is a bunch of numbers and stocks, and Tony doesn’t hold it against him in any way. It’s nice to have someone who’s willing to see you for the person you are now, and not your past.] _

 

“I’m your late father’s business partner, Tony.” He says with a smile eerily similar to Jarvis’. In the midst of his drunken mind, his heart aches for Obadiah, aches for the familiarity of Jarvis, and he listens to him speak while he hears nothing.

 

“Can I help you, Tony?”

  
  


Tony stares, eyes locked onto Obadiah’s blue ones. His boney fingers move up, shaking due to the ethanol overflowing in his veins.

 

Obadiah takes his hand, and pulls him up. Behind them, cameras flash, pictures are taken, and soon Tony takes over the Stark Industries with a little help from Obadiah. 

  
  


He listens to the man, does whatever he says, and soon SI’s like a spear piercing the news, piercing the media and saving American soldiers all over the country.

 

By making weapons.

Deadly,  _ deadly _ weapons, and Tony spends day and night designing while polishing his proud collection of cars. 

 

He’s a master of one-night stands. He doesn’t  _ date _ , he doesn’t fall in  _ love _ , he doesn’t partake in a  _ relationship _ . It’s only a one-time deal, he gets off, the lady gets off, and she probably sneaks out with some extra dollar bills in her hands. It’s a win-win.

  
  


_ [He hates how he’s becoming more and more like Howard, everyday.] _

 

He hires Virginia Potts, and the woman becomes his personal assistant. Simply put, his personal babysitter who also knows a bit about accounting and stock exchanges. 

 

He builds his house, a beautiful place in Malibu, with a garage and Maria’s infamous piano moved into his living room. He wakes up to the sounds of the sea, and sleeps to the sound of J.A.R.V.I.S asking him to eat something and rest.

  
  
  


For a while, Tony thinks he’s doing well enough, for a man with no family. He has Obadiah, he has Pepper, he has Rhodey. He has J.A.R.V.I.S. 

 

That’s until he decides to humor a few soldiers after presenting the Jericho.

 

Something moves around in his heart, and he  _ screams and begs and screams and begs  _ **_and begs for mercy_ ** _ - _

 

No one comes. Pepper doesn’t come, Rhodey doesn’t come. Obadiah doesn’t come. Peggy’s off somewhere in her house, or perhaps another’s, struggling to remember who Anthony Stark could  _ be _ .

 

Tony’s alone, lonelier than ever. 

 

_ [His head’s under water, he can’t breathe- and then it’s out and there’s air and his lungs are burning with the cold, cold water inside them and  _ **_just_ ** _ as he’s breathing, his head’s forced down under the water again- _

 

_ Someone stabs his heart, pushes something in his mouth and he bites so hard, he can feel his gum bleeding _

 

_. His chest is burning, he’s bleeding, they pull out something from his heart and then put something hot, cold, hot, cold, burning, freezing inside him, and he doesn’t even know what he’s saying other than begging for mercy, death,  _ **_anything_ ** _.  _

_ “Please let me die, please let me die please let me die pleaseletmedie-”] _

 

Then there’s Yinsen, his savior. A man who wants to see his family again. Together, they fool the Ten Rings. They’re making the  _ Jericho _ , but they aren’t. They work on Tony’s sketches, a man made of Iron, with bullets and  _ fire _ .

 

“You got a family?”

“Yes. And I will see them when I leave here.” Yinsen says, eyes shining brightly. “What about you, Stark?”

 

Tony doesn’t respond at first. He looks away, quietly mutters a  _ no _ and looks back up at the doctor.

 

“So you’re a man, who has everything… and nothing.” 

 

_ [Stark men are made of iron.] _

 

“That’s our ticket out of here. Flatten them out.” 

 

_ [“Stick to the plan, Yinsen- THE PLAN, YINSEN! YINSEN!”] _

 

They make an arc reactor. Out of scraps, out of wasted metal, and with a little help and a few curses, Yinsen replaces the rusty electromagnet in his chest with the beautiful shining core.

  
  


_ [“We gotta go. Come on, move with me. We got a plan, and we're going to stick to it.” _

_ Yinsen’s bleeding out. Tony chooses to ignore that, his metallic hands struggling to pick the man up. _

_ “This was always the plan, Stark…” _

 

_...That bastard.  _

_ “Come on, you're going to go see your family. Get up.” _

 

_ Yinsen won’t move. _

  
  


_ “My family is dead, Stark... and I'm going to see them now.” He gasps for air, the blood flowing out even more rapidly. “It's okay, I want this... I want this.” _

 

_ Tony goes quiet for a few moments. His heart aches behind the power of the reactor, and he doubts that could even be possible. He knows how Yinsen feels. _

 

_ He knows what it feels like when death is the only path where you can reconcile with your beloveds. _

_ So he swallows his selfishness, his fear of being left alone in this cave. _

 

_ “Thank you for saving me.” _

 

_ “Don't waste it... don't waste your life, Stark.”] _

 

He walks out of the cave, looks at the terrorists in front of him. They start shooting, none of the bullets hitting their target.

 

_ [He walks out of the room, and stands in front of too many reports, a holds a few carts up after a failed banter with… Chloe? Claire? Christine?] _

 

The shooters stop, their guns empty and their bullets wasted. He allowed himself to grin behind the silver mask.

 

“...My turn.”

 

_ [The cards have his alibi written out perfectly, with evidence, time, people, and events that may or may not have taken place.  _

 

_ “The truth is…”] _

 

Fire burns them, and he does it for Yinsen. Flames come out of his arms, and he delves into their screams of agony, despair,  _ pain _ ,  _ regret _ , and no matter how evil it maybe, he feels relief.

Leaving them to their pain, he flies away,  _ far far  _ away from them, knowing that he’s at least avenged the selfless companion of his.

 

_ [He lowers the cards, looks directly into the cameras and the reporters.  _

 

_ “...I am Iron Man.”] _

 

_ [ _ **_“My greatest creation… is you, Tony.”_ ** _ ] _

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hey thanks for reading c:
> 
> I'd appreciate feedback, comments, kudos, errors :') <3


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